Even cold, wet February mornings have bright moments.
I walked for about two miles in knee-deep swamp when my thoughts turned dark and the idea of giving up seeped into my head like the cold water that filled my rubber boots. My denim jeans were a miserable mush of wet fabric that clung the dirty water to my legs and made walking more than a chore at this point. The venomous water moccasins lay dormant on these mornings, making the trek more dangerous than normal. “No, I can do this alone”, the words spoken aloud in the empty wetland to mock myself while facing the fact that my poor choice has put me too far out to get a sane answer from anyone else. Too far in to turn back, and too close to give up I reckoned. About ten yards away from that particular moment I ran into this beautiful patch of morning glory which brightened up my cold-dampened spirits. The morning, from that point, was a bit warmer.
It’s amazing that a photo taken over ten years ago can trigger a memory like this. The feeling of cold, overwhelming despair and the realization that I may not make it back all return to me when looking at this photo. This is what photography does for me, as I would never be able to recall these feelings without a photo to remind me. Thanks Sony F707!